There's a guy that loves ants. He once sculpted a little human head outta clay, stuffed it with turkey and cheese, mounted it on a straightened hanger, and placed it in his ant infested kitchen. Then he waited as the ants eventually scaled the hanger to enter the head and devour its innards. His daughter said that to this day, he will not kill any ants that enter his home.
I wonder if I could live that way. Just become accustomed to the ants' presence and accept them as another part of the household, nature's little cleaning maids. Why is it I so instinctively find ants repulsive? Maybe one day if I get my own place, I'll finally try to live at peace with the little creatures . . .
I was just looking at the Comicon website, trying to figure out how much admission's gonna cost. But apparently it's a secret, because on neither the splash nor home pages are the prices posted. And the registration page seems to have stopped existing.
Come to think of it, I prolly should have pointed out to Cryptess and Richard that the Comicon was almost on . . .